


With All My Heart Still

by naasad



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Doesn't Really Want Kids and That's Okay, Aromantic Alfred Pennyworth, Aromantic Character, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Poly Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships, Surrogation, Trans Male Character, Trans Thomas Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 11:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: "Alfred," Bruce asked, "who is that in the picture with my mother?"





	With All My Heart Still

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea how this came about. My friend and I were watching Justice League: The Flashpoint Paradox and someone said something about trans!Thomas and there was brainstorming from there.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Alfred dusted off the old picture slowly, hands trembling over Martha and Thomas' young faces. When he was much younger, Bruce had often asked who it was in the picture with his mother. Alfred hadn't dared out Thomas to the world then, and neither did he now. An old family friend, he'd said. Long dead.

From a certain point of view, it was true. Thomas had left everything behind - everything from his clothing to his name. A reasonable reaction, though the world would not have seen it as such then, it barely did now.

Had Alfred been asked if he would have changed his mind - never let the Waynes employ him - he would say no. They had given him Bruce and Bruce had given life back to Gotham.

He still remembered when Thomas first approached him with the proposal. "Martha can't conceive," he'd said, "but I can."

They'd asked him to be their surrogate.

They'd asked him to surrogate with Thomas, his lifelong friend, every bit as important to him as a lover, but with nary a romantic inclination.

Of course, he'd said yes.

It took months of trying.

Boundaries were laid and removed, and by the time Thomas' body had swelled with new life, both he and Martha loved him much more than a brother - let alone a butler.

He returned their affections the only way he knew how, with unflinching loyalty and a helping hand without them needing to ask.

"Should we name them Bruce if they're a boy?"

It had been Martha's suggestion. Bruce, after Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, who'd learned perseverance from a spider. Alfred thought back to all the trying, and he agreed.

Bruce Thomas Wayne was born in the Master Bedroom of Wayne Manor, on a stormy night in February - but what night wasn't stormy in this dreary city?

Alfred delivered. He'd had enough training in Her Majesty's Royal Air Force to know how, and no one they asked knew a doctor who could be trusted with Thomas' truth.

He was the first one to hold his son.

"You don't have to be a parent to them if you'd not like to, but we do wish you would," they'd said often over the course of the last nine months.

He'd simply thanked them whenever it was brought up and asked for time to think.

But now that he'd held him, he knew. Passing him to his father, he knew. "Perhaps some years down the road, I shall change my mind, but for now, I do believe I should be no more to this child than a butler. For your safety, Mister Wayne, among other reasons."

Thomas and Martha had nodded, understanding.

Martha, though, was tenacious in her love of all things, but especially those persons she held dear. Every night, the day before Bruce's birthday, she would sneak to his quarters and lay with him, and he would run his fingers through her hair afterward, and she would ask "Should we tell him?"

Each time, he said no.

After only eight such nights, he found himself wishing he had said yes. Perhaps then, his son would not be grieving nearly so much. (He thanked the stars they had left the boy with him, yet still….)

He could not tell him now.

It was not his tale to tell.

And, besides, Bruce would hardly believe him.

But tonight, all would be revealed. They had needed to run Bruce's DNA for a case, to tell the difference between him and an imposter.

And now they all would know.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Alfred looked over to see his son leaning on the doorframe, his legs barely holding him. He rushed to see him to a chair. "Would you have believed me?"

Bruce's face shuttered in pain. "I hardly believe it now. Did my father know my mother was unfaithful to him?"

"Unfaithful?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Surely you were taught not to jump to conclusions. No, no one was unfaithful. We were... happy." He smiled sadly. "They were as much in love with each other as they each were with me, and I loved them both in return, never in the romantic sense, but with all my heart still."

"I don't understand how I look so much like him, if you're my father." Bruce glanced at his hands. "It's uncanny."

Alfred sighed and eased into a chair. "He was your father, too."

Bruce glanced at the picture on the mantel, a piece of a past long left behind. "Alfred," he said. "Who is that in the picture with my mother?"

Alfred looked down at his feet. "That is your father. A very long time ago. You asked why I did not tell you. It was out of respect for him - for his privacy and for his safety."

Bruce hummed, gears in his mind visibly turning. "If they didn't die, would you ever have told me then?"

Alfred smiled fondly. "Your mother was quite set on it, and what your mother wanted, in the end, she always got."

Bruce smiled back and reached for his father's hand. "Very true."


End file.
